The Tailor's Apprentice
by ZeAwesomeBirdie
Summary: Draco Malfoy rejects his family, his last name, and leaves home with nothing more than a change of clothes and a few coins. After a little searching, he finds a job: apprenticing under Madam Malkin. warning: the f-word is used. drarry, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

When Draco Malfoy disapperated from Malfoy Manor at three am mid-September, he only had a change of clothes and some spare change in a small Slytherin pride bag on his back. He didn't feel comfortable saying goodbye to his mother in person, so he left a note for Narcissa on his pillow, knowing she would find it after he didn't come down for breakfast in the morning.

The summer after the Battle of Hogwarts had been hard, but with Harry Potter personally stepping in to insist on pardons for both Draco and Narcissa, it was a little better. Draco knew his mother was writing letters to Potter, trying to thank him for their lives and apologizing profusely in turns as he just laughed and invited her over to the Burrow for tea. She never accepted.

The blond didn't know where he wanted to go yet, so he started by apperating to Diagon Alley. He decided to, at the very least, get some money from Gringotts so he could find an apartment on his own. He felt a drop of rain land on his head, and he looked up to see the London sky covered in gray clouds.

 _Great,_ he thought to himself.

Draco had decided against going back to Hogwarts to redo his seventh year, despite much pestering from Pansy Parkinson.

 _They all hate me,_ he had written back to her from the safety of his room. _They'll never let an ex-Deatheater anywhere near that castle._

 _Grow up and see how much they really care,_ she sent in response.

He ignored all other owls from her after that.

 _How does one even get an apartment?_ Draco pondered as he wandered into the Leaky Cauldron to wait for morning. His entrance got a few stares, and he blushed bright red before sitting down quickly in the darkest corner of the pub. _Maybe I should dye my hair_ …

By the time Tom, the owner of the pub, had gotten around to seeing what Draco would like to eat, the blond had charmed his hair to be a rich royal blue. Even with the hair change, Tom recognized the Malfoy immediately, and quickly hid his scowl.

"Mr. Malfoy-" he began before Draco hushed him.

"Please, Tom, not here. Just pretend you don't know me, please."

Tom looked at Draco curiously, before continuing, "What can I offer you to drink tonight, sir?"

Draco sighed and asked for a butterbeer, resigning himself to always being recognized and hated. _Maybe I should go back home…_ He shook the negative thoughts off and pressed on with his decision to find his own way. No longer would he be a Malfoy, the now blue haired man decided firmly. It took him all of a minute to decide on a new name for himself. Potter.

Smiling to himself, Draco sipped at the butterbeer Tom had dropped off, maybe a little slower than usual, on his table. Yes, he would be a Potter. He thought for a moment about Harry, those beautiful green eyes and jet black hair, before frowning again, This was all good and well, but where would he live?


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came slowly. Draco wished he had brought a book to read, or even a journal to write in. He decided that the second Flourish and Blotts opened, he would get a new set of travel quills and a nice journal. And maybe an owl, for the sake of having a companion and a way to reach Narcissa.

His journey into Gringotts was uneventful. He almost flinched when the goblins glared at him, but kept his composure and asked to be taken to his vault, where he retrieved enough money to buy the journal, quills, owl, and what he thought would be enough to buy or at least rent an apartment.

Then he set off to find the apartment. Every place he looked was suspiciously "not accepting new tenants, especially ones without a job," so Draco decided to start with searching for a job instead. Olivander's was closed, semi permanently. The manager of Flourish and Blotts flat out refused him entry, not that he expected anything better.

And then he saw a small sign sitting in the window of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Ocassions. It read _Now Hiring: Apprentices for Small Fee or Free. See Madam Malkin for more information._ Draco felt his stomach flip over, but straightened his back and walked into the shop.

The shop was smaller than he remembered, or maybe he had grown taller. It took him a minute to find Madam Malkin among the racks of robes.

"Madam Malkin," Draco called out tentatively, wondering if he should mask his voice a little.

"Mr. Malfoy," Malkin responded quietly, not turning around from her sewing. "How may I help you today?"

Draco gulped and ran his fingers through his blue hair. "I saw you had a sign for apprenticing, and uh. I was interested?" By the end of his question, he was whispering and starting to curl up upon himself.

Malkin looked up from her sewing machine and inspected him cooly. "And you are not here to kill me?"

"No ma'am." Draco shook his head fervently and tugged at the sleeve covering his Dark Mark.

"Sit and we will negotiate."

Draco watched silently as she transfigured a lonely old sewing machine in the corner into a three legged stool at the end of the table she was sewing at. It was some time before she spoke again.

"What experience with sewing do you have?" she finally asked.

"None. Well, my mother embroiders, and I've watched her do that, if that counts?" Draco's voice trailed off again.

Fixing him with a curious expression, Malkin continued. "Apprenticeship, especially from nothing, requires a minimum of seven years before you will be considered a tailor. Can you give that commitment?"

With another gulp, Draco said, "Yeah."

"Who will be paying for your apprenticeship? I do not accept Deatheater money."

"I will be. I…" Draco paused, took a deep breath, then continued, "I have renounced my family name and am looking to make my own path."

"Let me see your mark." Malkin did not phrase this as a question, and Draco knew it was coming. This was why he had hidden in the Manor since Potter had gotten him and Narcissa out of danger. But he rolled up his sleeve anyway, and showed her the Dark Mark. It had faded some, but was still dark and disgusting as ever.

"You must have that covered before you begin your apprenticeship," Malkin continued after she had taken a long look. "I can give you the name of a tattoo artist who specializes in cover-ups."

Draco nodded.

"I do not take Deatheater money. You will have to work for your apprenticeship."

Draco nodded again, a little quicker this time.

"I want you here every morning an hour before the shop opens to sweep and dust. During the day you will work directly with me or with one of my machines to learn the process of sewing and tailoring. After the shop closes you will sweep and dust again, and complete any chores I have for you. Is that clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright. Come back when you get that… _thing_ covered."

Draco nodded one more time, then stood, and extended his hand to Madam Malkin. She did not take it. She looked at him with vague amusement instead, and wrote the name of the tattoo artist down for him.

Before leaving, Draco turned back to Malkin and asked, "may I make one request of you, ma'am?"

Malkin looked back at him expectantly.

"I am not a Malfoy. Call me Potter, or Draco, or boy if you must, but do not call me a Malfoy."


	3. Chapter 3

Draco went in search of the tattoo artist as soon as he left Madam Malkin's Robes. The shop was at the end of Diagon Alley, a bit further out than Gringotts. _Wormwood Tattoo,_ read a fancy sign above the curtained window. A bit apprehensive, Draco stepped into the shop.

The smell of cedarwood and cinnamon hit him like a brick. The reception area looked like a waiting room for a doctor's office, accept the walls were covered in graffiti. A black desk stood to one side with a short witch behind it.

"How may we help you today, sir?" she asked brightly, smiling. The moon tattoo on her left cheek shimmered, and a meteor shower began on her right cheek.

"I… uh. I need an old tattoo covered," Draco said nervously. "I'd like it done by Sarah Wormwood?"

"Sarah's booked until December. What are you looking to get covered? We may have another just-as-skilled witch or wizard more available for you!"

In that moment, Draco decided to give zero fucks. He lifted his left sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark on his skin.

"Oh shit…" the witch said softly, before turning and rushing down the hallway behind the desk.

Draco sighed. This was what his life had come to. He had thought that maybe this place would help him, but no. They were just as bad as every other witch and wizard in Diagon Alley.

As he turned to leave, he heard footsteps come up behind him.

"Hey mister!" a playful female voice called out to him. "I was on my lunch break but if you wanna come on back, we can take a look at that ol' ugly Mark of yours. I specialize in that kind of cover-up, y'know!"

Draco turned back to the desk to see a thin, beautiful witch standing in front of him. She had her bright purple and pink hair tied in a messy bun, and she was covered head to toe in moving tattoos. She was smiling at him.

"Just give your name to my receptionist, Dolly."

Dolly peeked out from behind Sarah, then sat back down at the desk.

"Potter," Draco said to them. "Just put down Potter."

"Hey, Doll, we can pretend Harry Potter came to visit us now!" Sarah cackled gleefully before beckoning Draco to follow her down the hallway to the very last room.

"Now, let's see that Mark, hmm?" She sat down and patted the cushy chair next to her.

Taking the seat, Draco rolled up his sleeve again. Sarah inspected it, poking the Mark with her wand a few times before nodding sagely.

"How fresh?"  
"Couple of years."

She gave him a wink. "We'll get you covered in no time Mr. Potter."

Draco felt his heart thump at being called _Mr. Potter_.

"What designs were you thinking? Maybe a dragon? You seem like the dragon type."

"I was thinking… more like some flowers?" Draco looked down, slightly unsure of himself. He hadn't thought of what he would cover his Mark with before.

"Sure thing! How about some lilies? Maybe some roses?" As Sarah spoke, a rough outline of what she was saying appeared on his forearm.

"Uh… How about you pick? Surprise me."

Sarah smiled. "Sure thing, Mr. Potter."

"Oh and uh… Could you add a small Hungarian Horntail? You know, flying around the bouquet?"

"You definitely seem like the dragon type, mister."

…

Draco was in awe of the rapid, sure work that the witch did. After four hours or so, he could hardly see the Dark Mark at all, between the fresh bouquet of his mother's favorite flowers. The Hungarian Horntail nestled in the crook of his elbow, and in awe he tapped it gently and sent the little dragon flying off again.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked at the end.

"Nah, don't worry about it Mr. Potter. We do these things for free y'know."

Dolly looked a little uncomfortable when Draco walked back to the front of the shop.

"When do you close?" he asked quietly.

"Eight o'clock, or nine, depending on who's getting tattooed and when."

Draco hurried to Gringotts, got as many galleons as he could stuff into his Slytherin bag, and ran back to Wormwood Tattoo. Dolly stared at him anxiously.

"Now, Mr. Potter, Sarah already messed up her schedule today for you. You'll have to make an appointment to see her again," she said timidly.

"Of course, we'll do that in a minute," Draco told her. "But she wouldn't let me pay her, so here." He dumped the bag out on the desk, and galleons rattled all over.

"Mr. Potter sir- we can't possibly take this!"

"You folks did me the kindest service I could have been given today. Thank you."

And with that, Draco turned on his heel and walked back to Madam Malkin's.


End file.
